


Phantasmagoria

by greyingwarden



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Canonical Character Death, Characters to be added later, Chloe can see ghosts, Chloe needs a break, F/F, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Revenge, William loves his daughter-in-law(s), probably not as awesome as it could be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyingwarden/pseuds/greyingwarden
Summary: So. Chloe can see ghosts. That's fine and all, when it's just her dad and some random people from around Arcadia Bay that she doesn't even know. Too bad things went to shit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted fic in like. More than a year lmfao. So have this shit based on an idea of William Actually being there in ghost-person, instead of just Chloe's head.

Chloe had accepted that her life was fucked up a long time ago. She’d been able to see her dad since the day he died, and shit, wasn’t _that_ experience fucked up; she had thought that he’d already come home from picking Joyce up and had thrown a “Hey, dad.” at him and Max had looked at her all weird. That had lead to confusion all around until the phone rang and. Well. What happened next was history.

So she kept it to herself from there on out. Chloe would see him in dreams and in front of her, and it took her longer than she’d like to admit to _not_ talk to him in front of other people and look like a crazy person. She still wasn’t completely convinced that she _wasn’t_ actually crazy and her brain was playing fucked up tricks on her.

It took her two years to ever tell anyone and shit was she glad she told Rachel, because Rachel was an angel in plaid given human shape. Rachel didn’t even pause before accepting her, accepting her weird ass declaration of seeing her dead dad. After the shit with Rachel’s mom and her dick of a dad, she kind of vaguely mentioned that William liked Rachel and thought she was good for Chloe; and Rachel, _god_ did she love her-- Rachel turned to her with bright eyes and a smile and promptly used Chloe as a ghost translator to talk to her dad for the next five hours.

And William _did_ like Rachel, a lot. More than Joyce and definitely more than David. He often joked about how good his second daughter-in-law was for his daughter; Chloe didn’t have enough heart to ask him about his first daughter-in-law, already knowing the answer would hurt her. He seemed certain that Max would come back and Chloe didn’t have it in her to dispute that; he was normally right, anyway, but she was happy with Rachel and was looking forward to the future, instead of being stuck in the past.

She's happy, and Rachel had a night out on her own so she was fine to get blazed in the back of her truck on the beach while listening to the track Rachel made her, staring up at the sky and trying to pick out the constellations Rachel’s showed her and drawn on her skin on a lazy summer afternoon.

Chloe blows out a puff of smoke, hand fumbling for her phone before picking it up to check the time.

**11:11**   
**Monday, April 22**

Her lips turn downward around the blunt. Rachel normally texted her every hour, on the hour when she was out, something about ‘being safe’ and ‘wanting to check in, just in case’. She hadn’t at 10, but Chloe had dismissed it as being sidetracked with the party; it’d happen before so it hadn’t been some big thing. But two hours in a row wasn’t a Rachel thing; no matter how high or drunk she got, Rachel always wanted to let Chloe know that she was okay and she didn’t have to worry.

She pulls up Rachel’s contact info and hits the call button, holding the phone up to her ear.

Her frown gets deeper as the phone keeps ringing; never once in the three years she’d known her had Rachel let any phone call ring longer than twice, even if she was passed the fuck out in the middle of the junkyard at 3am. The fact that it went to Rachel’s recorded ‘ _Hey, this is Rachel [and Chloe!] and obviously I’m not at the phone right now but I’ll call you back as soon as I can!_ ’ makes something in her stomach sink and twist.

“Hey, Rach. You’re probably just passed out already,” Here, Chloe scratches at the back of her neck, “But I’m getting a hella weird feeling so just… call me back? Love you.” And she disconnects, feeling sick and weighed down.

She can barely wait three minutes before calling her for the second time; in short enough time, two calls turn into eighteen and she’s behind the wheel in her truck, doing 60 in a 35, and way too sober to not panic.

“Chloe.”

Chloe doesn’t flinch as her dad’s voice sounds from the passenger seat, running a stop sign and jerking her wheel to make a sharp right.

“Something’s wrong,” She says, instead of a greeting, “I don’t fucking know what, but Rachel’s not answering her phone and-- _fuck_!” She shouts, slamming her breaks with a squeal.

She’s in front of the building the party’s being held, now, in much less time than it should have taken her. Chloe doesn’t bother removing her keys from her lovely rust bucket, knowing that these rich shits wouldn’t ever touch her. The door is unlocked and slightly open, letting the thrumming music hit her before she’s closed even half the distance of the walkway. She storms in, looking around for someone she knows. Finally, after pushing and shoving her way in, she spots a gleaming head of short blonde hair.

“Hey, bitch!” Chloe calls, shouldering a faceless jock in a letter jacket, “Where the fuck is Rachel?”

Victoria turns, a surprised look on her sharp features, before she quickly turns it into a look of disgust with more than a touch of ‘holier-than-thou’.

“Oh, did Rachel finally grow enough of a brain to leave your ass?”

Chloe clenches her fists, back ramrod straight, “I’m serious, Vic. Where the fuck is she? Something’s _wrong_.” Her dad has followed her into the house, hand resting on Chloe’s shoulder hard enough for her to feel a bone-chilling coldness.

Victoria takes in Chloe’s posture, the anxiety written on her face, the worry in her voice, and glances around before speaking just barely loud enough for her to hear, “I’m.. not sure. The last I saw her was around 9:30 and she was already fucked up and stumbling.”

The party had only started at 9, so for Rachel to be that messed up… 

“Who gave her drinks?” Chloe nearly clenches her teeth in surprise at the damn near snarl that leaves her lips.

The blonde looks almost uncomfortable, and she very clearly omits a name as she says her piece, “Same as everyone else, Price. I doubt she’s here anymore.”

Chloe doesn’t say anything else to her, just thanks her silently with a nod of her head. She still checks every single room and closet in the place, just to make sure. Even after finding more than a few couples making out and going further than heavy petting, the more rooms she checks only make her feel more anxious. She doesn’t find Rachel, doesn’t find anything to suggest that she was even here, and damn if that doesn’t make her storm out to her truck, the ghost of her dad on her heels.

She pauses, one foot already on the floorboard. “Dad… can you check on her?”

William shifts and she can _feel_ it.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I can try, but…”

“ _Do it_.” Her voice breaks, and he’s gone. 

_Please_.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time William finally reappears, Chloe has checked every inch of Arcadia Bay for Rachel. From the lighthouse to the junkyard to the still half burnt and empty mill, to every little dingy back alley, and she'd come up with nothing. Her knuckles were bloody and scabbed from punching walls in frustration, but that didn't stop her from continuing to call Rachel’s cell. 

Somewhere around the thirtieth call, it had stopped ringing and started to go straight to voicemail, which only deepened Chloe’s feeling of wrongness. 

It's been _hours_ , now, since her dad had gone to look for Rachel and with each passing second, Chloe feels more and more like this isn't going to end well. She's passing by the party for the seventh time, and everyone that was there is already gone; the sun’s coming up over the bay and has been for the past hour. 

She feels the tell tale coldness sweep into her truck and turns her head to look at her dad. 

“Did yo--” She stops. 

The look on William’s face is the exact replica of what his face looked like when he told her, all those years ago, that one of her grandparents had died. It fills her with ice and dread. 

Chloe swerves onto the shoulder of the road, jamming the car into park and turns to face him. 

“Dad, _where is Rachel_?” She hates how weak and childlike she sounds, she hates how she can already feel her throat burn and her eyes itch. 

She hates how he _still isn't answering her_. But. His face says it all, says enough that she's shoving herself and stumbling out of her truck. She turns away and she hits the gravel, dirty rocks digging into her knees through the holes in her jeans. 

Chloe does not feel real as the sun rises above Arcadia Bay, on her knees and looking up into the face of the girl she loves. She doesn't feel real as she damn near _wails_ , fear and loss and anger filling her soul. And she certainly doesn't feel real as Rachel kneels in front of her, taking her head into cold and incorporeal hands. 

She doesn't have any control of the sobs that leave her, the repeating “no” and “oh god” and “Rachel” that leaves her lips. Chloe can feel William’s hand on her shoulder and she wants to scream at him. 

So she does. 

“ _You were supposed to protect her_!” Chloe sounds almost inhuman, a mess of tears and sobs and panic. 

Rachel makes a soft hushing sound, running her fingers through blue hair and Chloe can feel it and her heart breaks all over again. 

“It's not his fault,” Rachel whispers, “It's not his fault. It was already too late and he stayed with me.”

They stay like this for… Chloe doesn't know how long. They stay until Chloe’s knees are bleeding from the gravel, until she can take a breath without sobbing.

Rachel is solid enough to help Chloe stand, but her brain is so full of grief and pain that she shoves that thought into the back of her mind to deal with another day. 

Finally, Chloe catches her breath. 

“ _Who_?”

Because there's no way Rachel could just _die_. Not after going missing. 

Rachel looks angry then, as angry as she was when she set Arcadia Bay on fire, as angry as she was when she found out Damon had nearly overdosed her mother on orders from her father. Chloe can feel her heart beating in her chest, voice caught in her throat at the fury radiating off of her.

“Jefferson. He's been manipulating Na-- _Prescott_ and they both did.. _this_.” Rachel makes a gesture to herself and Chloe immediately understands. 

“I'm going to fucking kill them.” Chloe says, clenching her fists, “I'm going to fucking make them suffer and then I'm going to fucking kill those motherfuckers.”

Rachel’s anger dampens and she holds a hand up to Chloe’s cheek. 

“ _We’re_ going to fucking kill them.” She corrects her, “But not right now.”

Disbelief floods her, “They _killed you_ , Rachel. They deserve to fucking die!” Chloe nearly shouts, but the look on her girlfriend’s face quiets her. 

“I didn't say they don't. You can't go rushing in there, Chloe. They're going to kill you, too, if you don't plan this.”

Chloe can't stop what she says next.

“I don't _care_ if I die, Rachel, as long as they die, too.”

Rachel looks torn between yelling at her and hugging her. 

“Don't _say_ that,” Rachel says softly, tilting Chloe’s head down so she could rest their foreheads together. “Don't ever say that.”

Chloe’s eyes blur once again.

“There’s no point, Rachel.” Her voice _needs_ to stop cracking like this, “You're gone and Dad’s gone and I'm living with two people that barely tolerate me. You were the one person that was worth staying for.”

Rachel stares at her, pulling her closer, “Then live to help get revenge. I wasn't the only one.”

“ _Fuck_.”

Chloe screws her eyes shut, trying to think back to the yoga meditation shit Rachel spent that one month obsessing over. 

_In, 1 2 3. Out, 1 2 3._

She is going to kill these fuckers and make sure they never hurt a single fucking person ever again. 

“We're going to do this,” Rachel whispers, “Together.”

“Together.” Chloe promises. _Even if it kills me._

Rachel sighs, pressing a kiss to the edge of Chloe’s mouth that makes her skin tingle and shoots a shiver down her spine. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Chloe mumbles, reaching out and physically pulling Rachel into a hug, burying her face in her long hair. 

It _felt_ real, Rachel felt real, but it isn't as solid as it should have been. At this point, though, Chloe could not give a single flying fuck. 

“ _Fuck_.” Chloe whispers again. 

As if her life wasn't already fucked up enough to begin with.


	3. Chapter 3

Chloe stalks down the hallways of Blackwell with both hands full, one with Rachel’s missing persons poster and the other with a staple gun; she didn't even know how many rolls of tape she managed to stuff into her pocket. The posters had been Chloe’s idea; only three (living) people knew that Rachel was dead and she certainly didn’t want to tip them off, especially not after Rachel tore her a new asshole about not risking herself with them.

So here she is, a week before Rachel would have graduated, stapling posters to Jeffershit’s classroom door. In the back of her mind she can almost _hear_ David yelling “ _property damage_!”

Taking a step back, Chloe admires her work. Every inch of the wooden door has posters triple stapled to it, the only free spot being to small side window, which… Chloe pulls out a roll of tape, flips a poster over, and carefully moves it so that Rachel’s picture is looking into the classroom, straight at the asshole’s desk. Not subtle, but hell, when is Chloe _ever_ subtle. 

She uses the entire roll of tape to secure the poster where she wants it. 

Chloe can feel Rachel behind her, a cool hand resting on her hip and lips brushing against the back of her neck. 

“I was thinking about covering Prescott’s locker in them.” Rachel says conversationally, “Maybe leave a stack in front of his dorm?”

A smirk curls Chloe’s lips, “He's gonna have a nervous breakdown.”

Rachel snorts, grinning into her neck, “That _is_ my plan.”

Chloe makes short work of pasting the posters all around campus. In the end, she slips a small stack into Prescott’s locker before covering it in tape and paper. 

She's just finishing off the roll of tape when she hears heavy footsteps she knows like the back of her hand and she barely suppresses a flinch. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Rachel mimicking David’s walk and expression. 

“Chloe.”

“ _Chloe_.”

At Rachel’s horrible parody accent, she has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling. 

“You know you can't be on Blackwell property and I _will_ forcibly escort you out if you don't leave.” David says gruffly, just as gruffly as he does everything.

Now, Rachel has pulled a lock of her hair over her top lip to mock David’s mustache and Chloe can't help but snort at the sight. 

“God damn it, Chloe, this isn't funny. Leave _now_.” David makes a move to grab her upper arm and Rachel’s previous mockery fades in an instant. 

“Don't _fucking touch her._ ”

Rachel shoves her hands against his arm and David pauses just before his hand touches Chloe. Slowly, he lets it drop back down to his side and he frowns. 

“Just go, Chloe. I don't want to see you back here.”

Chloe gives him a one finger salute. 

“Sure thing, stepdouche.”

She doesn't hesitate to turn her back on him, knowing that if he _did_ try something, Rachel would do everything in her power to stop him. Speaking of which, they _still_ haven't figured that out, the whole “Rachel being more solid than any other ghost” thing and it still _fucked_ with her. 

Rachel was _so close_ to being real, Chloe could almost close her eyes and just pretend that everything was fine and Jefferson and Prescott hadn't killed Rachel, but there was still that otherworldly feeling of Rachel’s too cold hands on her. It's almost torture, but it definitely is preferable to not knowing or seeing her. 

Chloe shakes her head, “C’mon, let's hit the dorm. You got the lock?”

Rachel laughs then, loud and open and _free_. 

“You got it, babe.” And then she's gone. 

It only takes Chloe five minutes to cross the campus from the main building to the boys’ dorm. She doesn't hesitate at the door, simply swings it open and closes it behind her, following Rachel after she makes a “come here” gesture with her finger. Chloe can feel herself getting more and more tense the closer she gets to the rich shit’s room. 

A cold hand caresses her cheek, “Relax, Chloe. I made sure he wasn't there.”

“Yeah.” Chloe bites out, and then sighs, “Yeah, alright. Let's just get this done.”

When she finishes, Prescott’s door is a veritable _shrine_ to Rachel and something rends her heart from the inside.

“He'll fucking pay for what he did to you.”

Chloe doesn't know if she's speaking to the still, black and white pictures or the ghost girl next to her. 

“Soon.” Rachel agrees, resting her chin on Chloe's shoulder. 

A soft hum escapes her lips and Chloe freezes, feeling embarrassed at the sound. 

“Uh, yeah. Let's just… get outta here.”

Rachel’s resounding laugh is sweet and Chloe fights down a blush. 

“Asshole.” She mutters, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“You know you love me.” Rachel teases, right next to her ear. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not saying there's ghost sex, but I'm not Not saying there's ghost sex, y'know?


	4. Chapter 4

The last thing Chloe remembers doing is trailing after Prescott at the first Vortex party of the school year, the one she’d gotten Dana to sneak her into. Anything between then and being on the ground, eyes blurred almost to the point of blindness, with Rachel _screaming_ at her to “ _get up, please, Chloe, get up_ ,” is nonexistent in her memories.

“ _Chloe!_ ” Rachel is screaming in her god damned _ear_ and god, yeah, she loves her, but could she _please_ not break her eardrum.

Chloe hears the dull sound of a camera shutter, and before she can even think about what to do, she kicks her foot out in the direction of the sound. There’s a satisfying sound of something expensive breaking and the shouts of someone-- _Prescott_. She hopes that she broke his fingers, too, instead of just his camera. And then it hits her with a rush of clarity. Prescott had somehow managed to get to her at that party, had managed to get her wherever they were now, and is-- was, now-- taking pictures of her like he had of Rachel.

Now, Chloe was normally quick to anger, but this was a whole ‘nother story.

“Get the fuck away from me, jackass!” Her words are slurring, and she _still_ can’t see worth shit.

She scrambles away from him, feeling Rachel’s not-quite-solid hands helping her up and pushing her towards the door.

A hand lands on her shoulder, gripping hard, and Chloe doesn’t even have to think before shoving her bony elbow backward, hitting somewhere in the middle of his chest. Chloe should just leave now, she knows, but she clenches her fist and she swings toward the blur that is Nathan Prescott. The edge of her fist hits his nose, probably not breaking anything but is definitely leaving a wicked bruise. She only wishes that she were wearing rings or some shit when the majority of her punch collides with his left eye.

Despite wanting to kill Prescott then and there, she doesn’t. Rachel is still pulling on her arm, urging her to leave and Chloe knows she’s not in the condition to finish this fight now. She does her best to get out of there as quickly as she can, ending up stumbling drunkenly but not finding it in herself to feel embarrassed. Doors are opening and, belatedly, Chloe realizes that she’s in the boys dorm at Blackwell. It makes her stomach coil and fill with bitterness; so much for David protecting Blackwell like he should, he was all fucking bark and no bite. If he had bite, then Prescott and Jefferson would be rotting in prison, or, better yet, rotting in a shallow grave just like they left Rachel.

A rush of warm, end of summer air hit her as she pushes through another set of door. Her eyesight is finally starting to return to normal as she spots the nearest trash can. Getting over to it as quickly as she can, Chloe shoves her fingers down her throat and vomits. It’s disgusting and it burns, but she knows the quicker the drugs are out of her system, the better. Rachel is running her hand in soothing circles and Chloe finally steps away from the trash, spitting into it one last time.

Chloe’s still trying to grasp what happened and how and when she got drugged when she makes a snap decision.

“We’re going to go see Frank.”

Rachel’s hand pauses near the base of her spine.

“Chloe…” It’s oddly quiet and subdued and Chloe sighs.

She reaches behind her to grab Rachel’s hand and interlocks their fingers, pulling Rachel with her as she starts setting off toward her truck.

“I figured it out before everything happened, babe.”

Rachel’s shock is almost palpable and Chloe almost winces. It had been an easy guess, honestly. Rachel would do anything for her and the same went for Chloe. The more money in her pocket and the reduced price of her weed had been the first tip off. Sera’s bracelet around Frank’s wrist had been the most obvious clue and Chloe… she felt bad that she didn’t feel jealous, so much as she felt hurt that Rachel hadn’t told her herself. Rachel could very well have feelings for Frank, and the only thing that matters to Chloe is Rachel being happy. She had gotten over her anger a long time ago.

“Chloe, I--”

Chloe cuts her off, looking at her out of the corner of her eye, “It’s _alright_ , Rachel. Really.”

For the first time, Chloe doesn’t hate how soft her voice is with the other girl. Rachel deserved to see every side of her, and Chloe only wishes she could be more open.

“Besides,” Chloe adds, walking faster as she spots her truck, hand still gripping Rachel’s, “I wanna let Frank know exactly what kinda shit Prescott is pulling with the drugs he’s selling.”

Rachel was unnaturally quiet as they got into the truck, clinging to her hand like a lifeline and, in a sense, it was.

It’s five minutes into driving that the silence is too much and, steering with her knees because like hell was she letting go of Rachel’s hand, Chloe shoves a well-loved CD into the console and turns the volume up. The soft vocals of Rachel’s favorite indie songs fill the silence and within seconds, Rachel is humming along.

Chloe can’t do anything _but_ smile as Rachel’s face lightens.

They continue on like that, Chloe occasionally joining in on the singing and it’s light and happy and Chloe can almost forget what happened earlier in the night. Almost. She still feels the heaviness in her whole body, the way her eyelids want to fall shut. Her responses are still sluggish and her throat still burns from vomiting. Chloe rolls her ankle experimentally, managing not to wince as it twinges in pain; she hadn’t been aware enough to kick in a way that wouldn’t injure herself. She didn’t have to look at her hand that was still intertwined with Rachel’s to know that her knuckles had split open when she’d punched Prescott and were already scabbing over.

It doesn't take Chloe long to find Frank’s RV; he tended to be by the beach around the summertime and she’s quietly thankful that the man is predictable. 

The lights in the RV flick on as soon as she parks, and the door opens when she approaches. 

Chloe can see the surprise on Frank’s face as he takes in her disheveled appearance. 

“Price.” He greets from the doorway, “You look like shit.”

His nose is wrinkled and Chloe hears the unspoken ‘ _and you smell like it, too_ ’ clearly. 

“Yeah, well,” Her voice is sharp and she pushes past him into the RV, “Being drugged by Nathan fucking Prescott does that to you.”

The beer can in Frank’s hand is crushed with little thought, and if the situation were less serious, Chloe would be laughing her ass off at the scene. Pompidou is staring up at his owner, a quiet whine cutting through the suddenly oppressive atmosphere. Rachel is next to him though, scratching under his chin and peppering kisses on the dog’s head. Chloe tries not to stare at her; Pompidou going from whining to thumping his tail was suspicious enough without her staring into thin air.

“ _What._ ” 

Chloe can hear the concern in his voice and, _boy_ , is _that_ a fucking doozy. 

“I don't know how the fuck that prick did it,” She says, ignoring the raised eyebrow from Rachel that clearly says ‘ _yes, you do_.’

Chloe flops into the driver’s seat, staring at him with a frown. 

“You're the one that sold it to him.” It's not a question, and Frank's reaction is enough of an answer, “And I fuckin’ doubt I'm the first one he's pulled this shit with.”

She doesn't mention that she knows that for a fact. 

Frank finally shuts the RV door and leans heavily against it, running the hand that isn't dripping it spilt beer through his hair. 

“ _Fuck_ , he didn't--?”

Chloe understands what he means immediately and fights the bile that's rising up in the back of her throat. 

“ _Fuck no!_ I got outta there before the creepy little shit could do more than snap a few pictures.”

She never thought Frank could look so relieved. Still, though, he's agitated and pacing, and Chloe doesn't take her eyes off him even with her eyelids drooping halfway. 

“How much more of that shit does he have?”

Frank grimaces, “More than enough. I sure as fuck ain't selling him more.”

And she believes him. 

“Frank…” Chloe says, and pauses. She wants to say something about Rachel, but…

If she does, he’s not going to wait to kill Prescott. She and Rachel didn't get this far only for her to say something and fuck it all up. 

“Thanks.” Chloe finally decides on saying. “I'll… I'll keep you posted. I'm going to be at every Blackwell party to make sure that shit doesn't do anything to anyone else.”

Frank nods, looking thoughtful, before digging into his pocket and tossing whatever he found at her. 

Chloe doesn't hesitate to catch it and takes a second to examine it. The switchblade is obviously well loved, but, as she snaps it open, the edge is still sharp. She looks at him and raises her eyebrows in question. 

A wry smile is on his face and he snorts.

“I saw your handiwork with Damon. You'll need it.”

Chloe can't fight a grin as she flicks the knife shut.

“You don't know the half of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sick as fuck when I wrote this so hopefully it's all coherent?


	5. Chapter 5

The way Max Caulfield reappears in her life is not at all how Chloe expects. 

It's near the end of September, a little bit more than two weeks after the shit show that went down with Prescott. Chloe’s at the second Vortex party of the year, Dana once again being a lifesaver and getting her in without fuss; where she was this time, Chloe had no fucking clue. 

She’s on edge, with Dana not here. This whole _day_ has been weird. Rachel has been acting weird since the start of the party and Chloe hasn’t gotten a chance to ask her about it, but she keeps getting the strange feeling of deja vu and wonders if that’s playing some part of it.

Chloe’s learned from last time. She refuses the multitude of cups that are passed to her; she didn't even smoke before, even though every part of her mind was crying out for the hazy relief. 

So here she is now, sober and anxious, tracking Prescott from where she's leaned against a wall. She had lost track of him briefly, about fifteen minutes prior, and something isn't right. Chloe can see the nervous twitchiness of Prescott even through the crowd. A part of her is smug as fuck that he still has a black eye, and that his fingers are still bandaged. 

Her attention is drawn away from him when laughter rings out. There's a small blonde stumbling and Chloe can see, even from her distance, the confusion on the girl’s face. Her eyes are glassy and wide and something shines around her neck; a cross. She's obviously not a typical Vortex groupie and something about her makes Chloe feel almost protective. 

The second a teenage dickbag grabs onto the girl, Chloe is off the wall and her fist is swinging toward him. In all likelihood, the guy’s going to be matching Prescott by tomorrow. 

Chloe looks directly at Prescott, flipping him off before wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders. Her other arm slips underneath her knees and _damn_ is this girl complete deadweight. It makes her thankful that Rachel had talked her into lifting weights and sticking with it even after she’d died.

She can feel Rachel’s anger and, surprisingly, William’s. He’d gone MIA after Rachel had died, only showing up every once in a while to check up on the both of them; but he’s here now, anger clear but not as suffocating as Rachel’s. Chloe has _never_ felt the kind of fatherly rage that he’s putting off and it almost scares her.

Chloe glances down at the girl in her arms as she pushes her way outside, only to find her looking up in wide-eyed, incoherent awe. It makes Chloe’s stomach twist.

“Hey,” Chloe says as softly as she can, “Can you tell me your name?”

It takes a while for her question to process, and Chloe can see when it does in the girl’s eyes.

“K-Kate.” Her voice is slurred and it makes Chloe remember how she felt, not even a month ago.

How _dare_ that fucking prick pull this shit on someone else, her mind shrieks. She wants to leave Kate with Rachel and march back into the party and shove Frank’s switchblade in Prescott’s _throat_ and spit on his body. Her anger is almost irrational and suddenly Rachel is quietly shushing her, running fingers through her hair.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Rachel is whispering, and Chloe can feel herself relaxing.

“I’m Chloe, Kate.” She says instead of acknowledging Rachel. The girl would probably not remember any of this but Chloe doesn’t want to take the risk of talking to thin air. “What dorm room is your’s? I’ll take you there.”

Kate’s thought process seems to be slowing down and Chloe knows that she’s going to regret this. Unlike when Chloe was drugged, there’s no trash can in sight, so she carries Kate to the closest bush and sets her down.

“Kate,” Chloe meets the girl’s unfocused eyes, “I’m sorry, but this is gonna be fuckin’ gross but we have to do this. You need to puke out what you drank. Can you nod if you understand?”

It takes almost twenty seconds but she does. Chloe steels herself.

“Can you do it? Shake your head if you can’t.”

Kate looks terrified and Chloe wants to bash Prescott’s head in. Chloe knows her answer before she even shakes her head.

“Alright,” She says, pushing down her disgust, “Alright. Let’s do this shit.”

The whole process is horrible and Chloe wishes _she_ was the one that wouldn’t have any memories of tonight. Finally, though, Kate’s stomach is empty and as cleaned up as she can be. She makes a vague promise to herself to replace the girl’s sweater when she can.

She picks Kate up again after seeing her stumble and sets off toward the girls’ dorm, only to realize minutes later that she’d never been told the room number. Chloe looks down at her and she’s already asleep.

Chloe doesn’t bother stifling her groan, “Rachel? Can you go see if you can find her room?”

She can feel lips brush against her cheek before she’s gone.

“Dad?” 

It’s… awkward. Even after all these months, Chloe can still feel the anger she held for her father the day Rachel died. She knows that he couldn’t have prevented it, knows that she couldn’t have prevented it, but it’s still there, settling in her chest like a disease. It makes her uncomfortable.

“Can you watch Prescott?”

She doesn’t expect him to say anything and he doesn’t, merely disappearing as quickly as Rachel had. It kills her how much she relaxes when he’s gone, but she doesn’t want to deal with that now or anytime soon.

The air is heavy with humidity the closer Chloe gets to the dorm. It had been getting progressively worse over the past month, but now it feels like it’s about to start pouring down rain. She can feel the sweat starting to bead on her face and she adjusts her grip on Kate.

As she walks up the steps, the dorm door swings open and _Jesus_ is that ever _not_ going to make her feel like jumping out of her skin? But Rachel is there, and Chloe’s thoughts are swept away by the weird look on her face. She’s about to open her mouth to ask, but Rachel just shakes her head, turning around and moving towards the stairs.

“For a shithole as well funded as Blackhell, you’d think they’d have fuckin’ elevators.” Chloe gripes, shifting Kate once again.

Carrying someone that’s deadweight up an entire flight of stairs is hell and Chloe never wants to do this shit ever again in her life. She’s actually sweating now, arms and legs trembling, and she nearly slams face first into the ground on the second to last stair. Rachel grabbing onto her shoulders is most likely the only thing that saves her from a broken nose. Chloe barely manages to make it up the last two steps and she’s mentally cursing herself for smoking as she gasps for air.

Rachel still has the disturbed look on her face and it’s starting to make her anxious, but she stays silent; Chloe knew her well enough to know that she’ll tell her when she’s ready.

Finally, Rachel stops in front of a door and makes no move to unlock the door. Chloe shoots her a questioning look but sets Kate down, wrapping an arm under the girl’s and awkwardly patting the pockets of her skirt to find keys; and _goddamn_ is the key ring so cute with a fucking _bunny_ on it and it makes Chloe want to stab Prescott for the shit he was going to do to her.

A door opens up behind her with a quiet ‘ _Kate?_ ’ as she's fumbling with Kate’s keys, trying to find the right one, and she turns, ‘ _help or fuck off_ ’ on the tip of her tongue, but she stops because--

“Max?”

Because Chloe knows those freckles just like she knows the stretch marks on Rachel’s thighs, just like she knows the scars on her own wrists, and suddenly Rachel’s behavior makes sense.

She can see it in Max’s face when the recognition hits and she’s floored at the surprise and sheer _happiness_ she sees there.

“Chloe?” The way that her face lights up hits Chloe like a suckerpunch in the stomach.

And Kate chooses that moment to start falling over, dragging Chloe down with her.

“ _Shit!_ ” She shouts, her hand slamming on the door frame to stop their descent, keys digging into her palm painfully.

Max is next to them in a second, helping push Kate back up into a standing position. She’s the vision of concern, eyebrows drawn together with a crinkle between them and Chloe, damn her gay ass, wants to kiss her forehead.

“What’s wrong?” Max asks, “Is Kate okay?”

Chloe doesn’t answer her yet, just glances down the hallway and hands Max the keys.

“I’ll tell you in the room.”

It takes Max two seconds to find the right key and unlock the door, pushing it open and hitting the lights. Kate’s room looks almost exactly like Chloe expects it to; there’s a bunny in a cage that exactly matches the one on her key ring, family photos scattered, a violin in a corner, and a Bible sitting on the desk.

Chloe moves Kate to the bed, sitting her down and swinging her legs up so that she’s laying flat. As an afterthought, Chloe takes her shoes off and places them next to the bed.

Max is standing by the bunny, shifting awkwardly; she’s clearly just as thrown at seeing her as Chloe is.

“She was drugged.” She says instead of acknowledging the tension.

“ _What?_ ”

 _Jesus_ , what is _with_ Chloe being attracted to angry girls? Rachel’s obviously thinking the same by the beautiful, sharp smirk curling her lips.

“She’s adorable.” Rachel is way too close to Max and Chloe can tell that the brunette feels her, the way she wraps her arms around herself.

Chloe struggles not to respond to Rachel.

“She was drugged,” Chloe repeats, dragging her eyes away from Rachel, “At the Vortex party. By that fucking dick Prescott.”

“Prescott? _Nathan_ Prescott?” Max is almost _too_ surprised that Chloe’s stomach twists with anxiety.

Her voice is way too sharp as she asks, “You’re not friends with him, are you?”

Max draws back some at her tone and Chloe regrets it immediately.

“No, no. I mean, he’s a creep, but I didn’t think he would drug someone.”

Chloe believes her and she speaks without thinking.

“I don’t fuckin’ see how nobody does. He’s done it before tonight.”

The way Max’s expression sharpens reminds Chloe that, oh, she does still know Chloe and her mannerisms and almost everything.

Chloe stops her before she can ask, “Not now, later. Can you grab some water for Kate?”

Kate’s not going to be awake for a long time, but Chloe would rather be prepared than not. Max looks like she wants to argue, but thankfully she doesn’t, instead slipping out of the door and leaving it open slightly behind her. She can vaguely hear her reopen her own dorm door.

Finally, Chloe looks at Rachel, “Why didn’t you tell me?” She whisper-shouts, not wanting Max to hear.

“Would you have rather met with her or not even know she was at Blackwell at all?” Rachel shrugs, not quite meeting her eyes. “You two were cute as baby pirates.”

Before she can question her about it, Chloe hears a quiet ‘ _Sorry, Lisa_ ’ and she feels the sudden shock of jealousy curling in her veins. Max had a girl in her room? It felt irrational but her skin was buzzing and she felt jittery and ready to go see who exactly was the type of person to make Max apologize for leaving in the middle of the night.

And, suddenly, Rachel is laughing, nearly hysterically.

“Oh, my God, the look on your _face_.” Rachel gasps out, grin splitting her face, “Lisa is a _plant_ , Chloe!”

Chloe wants to ask her how she knows, but Max re-enters the room. She shoots Chloe a weird look, undoubtedly because her face is bright red in embarrassment. Thankfully, she just shakes her head and sets a water bottle on Kate’s nightstand.

“So.” Max starts, shutting the door, “Nathan’s drugging people?”

It’s almost as if they’re discussing weather after a day of not speaking, rather than talking about a teenager serially drugging people and them not having any contact in five years. It sets Chloe on edge and there's just something... _wrong_ about the way Max is acting. It seems almost forced.

But Chloe can feel herself getting ready to spill everything anyway, and she looks at Rachel, anxiety thick and suffocating.

“Do it.” Rachel says, and Chloe knows she’s leaving something out. 

She pushes the thought to the side and tells Max everything.

“Prescott and Jefferson.” She corrects, feeling like she’s going to vomit at the _truly_ shell shocked look on Max’s face, and Chloe remembers that she’s more than likely taking his class. It makes her blood boil, knowing that the murdering piece of shit has been in such close contact with her. 

And Chloe pauses, steeling herself and pushing down her anxiety. Her fingers are twitching to pull out a cigarette to calm her nerves, but she doesn’t.

“Do you remember, the day my dad died?” It’s the first time she’s talked about it to someone other than Rachel, and her words catch, “How I saw him after he’d already died before we knew?”

Max looks at her, _really_ looks at her, and Chloe has the sinking feeling this has something to do with what Rachel’s not telling her.

“You can see him.” 

The fact that it’s not a question shocks Chloe down to her very core.

“Y-yeah,” She stutters, breath catching, “Yeah. He’s not the only one. You’ve seen the posters, right? Of Rachel?”

Max nods, not taking her eyes off of Chloe. She knows that having this conversion in the room of an unconscious, drugged girl is probably not the best idea, but she throws caution to the wind.

“She’s standing right next to you,” Chloe says, and before her mind can catch up with her mouth, she adds, “And she thinks you’re hella adorable?”

The atmosphere lightens up some when Rachel snorts a laugh and Chloe can’t help her own smile.

“You’re such a fuckin’ nerd.”

And Max really _is_ hella cute, with her cheeks pink like that.

Max clears her throat, obviously trying to fight her blush.

“Chloe… Tell me _everything_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to get this long, or even for Max to pop up in this chapter but here we are. Also Kate is fucking precious


	6. Chapter 6

They talk well into the night, and into the early morning. Sometime around one in the morning, Max had decided to liberate some pillows and blankets from her dorm room, finally getting tired of lounging on Kate’s floor and desk chair. 

Chloe wants desperately to ask Max about the rather obvious, half-dried bloodstain on one of the pillows. At a shake of Rachel's head, she knows she won't have to. Max had always been shit with secrets and Chloe would bet hard money on finding out the reason before the sun came up. 

And she's right. 

They're laying on Kate's floor, in a nest of fluffy and soft blankets, face to face. Rachel is pressed up against her back, a leg hooked over her hip and the coolness of her touch feels nice in the still stifling humidity. If Chloe had to guess, it was probably somewhere around 4am. She’d finally finished telling Max everything about fifteen minutes ago and she feels out of breath and exhausted. Max is still staring at her, far too intently for something to not be wrong. 

Max breaks the silence in an incredibly unsubtle way. 

“I can time travel.”

Now it's Chloe's turn to stare at the face in front of her. She knows she has a look deep thought on her face, the kind of expression that constantly makes Rachel laugh and joke about how ‘ _if you keep squinting like that, those eye crinkles are going to be permanent_ ’. 

It's weird that this isn't freaking Chloe out at all, but hey, her dead girlfriend is wrapped around her like a koala so things can't get much stranger.

“Huh.”

Max blinks at the noise, “Huh? I tell you I can time travel and all I get is ‘ _huh_ ’?”

Chloe snorts, “Well, Maxy McFly, I did pull the whole ‘I can see dead people’ thing on you first. So how much of that long ass conversation have you already sat through?”

“None, actually.” Max says, the cute wrinkle between her eyebrows appearing again, “I… I don't think you actually saw anyone like this. You thought that Rachel had just… disappeared.”

Chloe frowns. That… didn't sound right. She’d told Max everything within five minutes of meeting back up with her. There was no reason for her-- _other_ -her _not_ to tell Max.

“When did you, uh, travel from?”

“October 8.” Max says, and fuck, she's _serious_. 

“Shit, Max, that's weeks from now. Why'd you come back?”

Max finally looks away from her face, “I… I didn't really mean to? I just wanted everything to be okay and--and Kate was about to kill herself _again_ and I just _couldn't_ let that happen, Chloe. I couldn't. I had to rewind so many fucking times and then I just,” Her breath hiccups, “Woke up here. I get nosebleeds from rewinding, but nothing like _that_.”

She gestures to the discarded pillowcase that lays in a wrinkled pile by the door. 

There are so many questions on the tip of Chloe’s tongue and she just wants to blurt them all out, but Max seems so fucked up and that probably wasn't the best idea.

“Did the other me ever get drugged by Prescott?”

Max seems surprised at the seemly random question, “I--I'm not sure. I think so? You didn't do anything about it.”

The answer makes Chloe’s science-y side want to freak out and go digging for theories about how exactly this could happen and--

“Do you think we're from two alternate universes? Because the reason I was at the Vortex party was because of what happened last time, and that was because of Prescott overdosing Rachel at the party in April. So if I didn't know any of that, then your-me wouldn't have been at the party tonight, so then Kate would have there the entire time. Which means Prescott would have gotten his hands on her.”

Max is staring at her with a weird expression, and, c’mon, Chloe _can_ be smart and knowledgeable and all that shit, thank you very much.

“Wowzers. That… is pretty much what happened. Victoria, I think, took a video of Kate like _that_ and then it was posted and, _God_ , Chloe, they all put Kate through living hell when it was leaked. She was _miserable_.”

“Then it's a good thing we're not gonna let that happen.” Chloe say, throwing the arm not trapped by Rachel over Max, pulling her closer, “Now. I already word vomited so it's your turn, Time Queen. Spill.”

Max, thankfully, tells her everything. 

Chloe, not for the first time that day, wants to immediately shove various sharp objects into Nathan Prescott when she learns about what she mentally dubs as _The Bathroom Incident_ ™. She can feel Rachel’s cold rage permeating the air around them and awkwardly reaches a hand behind her to sooth her. It doesn't work well. 

Rachel’s cursing quietly in her ear and _really_ , hearing your dead girlfriend talk about torturing and killing someone should _not_ be doing the things that it's doing to you, Chloe. She shuts her eyes tightly and fights the blush she already knows is burning her cheeks. 

“Just-- go on.” Her voice cracks. Max is trying not to _crack_ up.

Chloe flips her off halfheartedly. 

The reveal of David being an asshole to innocent teen girls isn't surprising and it shows on her face. 

“He's still like that?” There's that cute little crease again. 

Chloe waves Max off, “Pretty sure he'll be like that in _any_ universe.”

Max looks… unreasonably upset. Chloe can't think of why other than David being himself. It's only when she mentions that Chloe had wanted her to hide so that Max wouldn't get blamed that she has a sinking feeling about what she saw. 

Chloe doesn't say anything, just merely draws the smaller girl closer to her. 

It goes on like that for a little while, Chloe finding a lot of what's being said as not that noteworthy until Max gets to the junkyard. Almost automatically, Chloe stiffens and Max notices. 

“ _Shit_ shit I'm sorry, Chloe, I--”

Chloe cuts her off, “Nah, nah it's cool. Keep going, Maximus.” 

Neither Max nor Rachel mention the way her voice shakes. 

“I… You wanted to practice with the gun so we set up bottles and.” Chloe hears the unspoken ‘ _and you died again_ ’ in Max’s voice, “That happened. I passed out from over doing the rewind and when I woke up, this really creepy drug dealer dude was yelling at you about money you owed and then you saw he was wearing Rachel Amber’s bracelet and--”

Max’s voice is getting steadily more guilty sounding and Chloe’s heart drops. 

“And you got really angry and then he had a switchblade,” Max seems honestly terrified and Chloe really wants to punch Frank, even if he's not as much of a dick as his other self, “And I pointed the gun at him and I was going to shoot him--”

“Max, what the _fuck_.”

She recoils and now _Chloe_ feels like the dick but she can't help the way her mouth doesn't ever listen to her.

“You shot _Frank_? He's literally like… the biggest softie ever.” The biggest softie that has actually killed a man, maybe. The biggest softie that's a murdering drug dealer, definitely. 

Chloe can practically _see_ Max’s feathers ruffle. 

“He had a _knife_ , Chloe!” And no matter how much she tries to hide it, Chloe can see the utter protectiveness and _terror_ on her face. “I _was_ going to shoot him. The gun didn't have anymore bullets.”

She relaxes, and she can feel Rachel’s death grip on her arm loosen. She had been quiet for most of the pseudo-sleepover and Chloe _knew_ that she was missing actual human contact besides her. It wasn't easy for either of them, really. Just being next to Max had her feeling like she was overheating, her blood like fire in her veins. 

“I'm sorry.” As a principle, Chloe doesn't apologize to anyone. The whole world is out to get her and every ounce of her being wants to shout ‘ _FUCK YOU!_ ' from the rooftops. But Max isn't just _anyone_ , and neither is Rachel. “You should meet my Frank. He's not as much of a dick as your’s.”

Max, almost imperceptibly, wiggles closer to her. 

“ _Sure._ ”

Chloe holds her as she starts the story again, and soon enough she's wincing, imaging the train tracks that she and Rachel had walked along, the ones that she and Max would(?) walk along. She could picture all too well what dying there would look like and the other-Chloe is _definitely_ way more depressed than she is now. 

Max, for the most part, tries to skim over any time Chloe dies, or Prescott or Jefferson appear, but when she mentions the conversation between Kate and the teacher, both Chloe and Rachel react. 

“Wasn't Kate’s name on one of the new binders?” Chloe can't help the anger in her voice. She is going to make Jefferson _suffer_. 

Rachel makes an almost animalistic sound and she doesn't doubt that Max picks up on the feeling, if not the sound. Max nearly _freezes_ in her arms. 

“Oh God, Kate was going to end up like Rachel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really like this chapter at all and I still have half a mind to just. Rewrite it completely.

**Author's Note:**

> Rachel still dies but I love her so fuck that shit.


End file.
